Last Day of Undergrad

A couple of weeks ago I was wishing I was Michael Chabon, and today late at night, reading Billy Collins, I was wishing I could be him.

Last day of undergrad classes today, and I missed almost all of the only class I had. Turned up late, and didn’t pay much attention; Skyped with S and the Boyfriend, then walked out in the pouring rain, to get tattooed by a South American lady called Anabela. Arguing with tattoo artists always makes me iffy- it’s so hard to come to an artistic vision when two people are involved, each with definite opinions. Julie came along to hold my hand. Then we went back to school and had Chinese food and unnecessary ice cream. Comfy lounge with the remains of my ice-cream, watching New Girl and trying to figure out the nth version of a not-needy message to send a boy who’s decided to cut me out for some reason. Ran to watch an experimental play at the Black box theatre: got there with my hair sticking up, 5 minutes before it started and straightened my hair in the reflection of a fire extinguisher, only to find Erik staring at me from the end of the corridor, waiting. Then back home, with Erik who tags along and eats all my pizza- and some amounts of deep conversation interspersed with youtube and music.

The roommate came home late, trying to convince me to ditch the Indian hippie plan, and live with her in Toronto instead. She also informed me that no, I’m not making shit up in my head, the boy in question is definitely annoyed at me.

Note to self: Stop putting people in a gray area? Even if it works, it will probably end up messy.

It rained all day today. I wish it hadn’t.

We are a process unfolding

“The more basic the existential concept, the more unlikely it is that it is open to empirical verification or rejection. Is the universe indifferent to our hopes, dreams, and loves? Are each of us essentially alone and responsible for our own fate? When you come right down to it, is life meaningless except for whatever meanings we ourselves can invent?”

Dear Death and Dying course, I’m going to miss you.

Things I did this weekend (in random order)

  1. Cleaned the house
  2. Found a subletter for my room
  3. Went grocery shopping
  4. Met potential roommate for next year on a shawarma-date
  5. Watched ‘Coffee and Cigarettes’, ‘Moonrise Kingdom’, ‘Juno’, and half of ‘Everyone Says I Love You’, and ‘Me, You and Everyone We Know’
  6. Cooked khichdi and rajma
  7. Wrote a letter to myself
  8. Started reading Isaac Asimov for the very first time. Finished his ‘Robot’ collection.
  9. Got my period (sigh/relief. bring on the painkillers)
  10. Read my very first Ursula Le Guin- The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas
  11. Worked on feeling better about myself and being able to spend time with myself without feeling like crap
  12. Decided to stop the binge eating and start eating healthy again.

It’s been a very long, relaxing, unproductive sort of weekend. The first one in ages, where I did absolutely nothing work related without any sort of guilt. I was planning to study for my ‘Death’ midterm later this week, but I didn’t. I couldn’t help moping in parts, but at least I didn’t degenerate to wanting to kill myself. Progress there.

Lull before the storm. Finals hit on the 11th. Oh Boy.

Sometimes you don’t need anything or anyone else to be happy. Sometimes happiness has nothing to do with your future prospects, or the boy in your head, or those nights out you had. Sometimes happiness is just you walking home alone in the dark, with a warm apple cider in your hands and music in your ears at the end of an exhausting week. It’s the feeling that makes your heart skip for no reason at all as you step through piles of fall leaves, and feel the tip of your nose grow cold, as you breathe in the crisp cool air, and feel your cheeks get flushed. Sometimes happiness is just walking, tipping your head back to get the last few drops of your sweet sticky drink, and finding yourself looking up at a blue velvet sky full of stars. Sometimes happiness is deciding on a whim to walk around town and find that brilliant shawarma place you went to once, because you finally have time to waste, and because your legs want to keep moving.

Sometimes all you need to be happy is yourself. These times don’t come very often, but when they do, you think to yourself that this moment right here, is what I’ll remember about this term. You try to pin down content, but you don’t really, because contentment is when you feel like you’re floating high up there with the stars, like you’re enough. 

 

It’s really hard to study or get any work done when the weather’s as gloomy as this. Woke up at 9 o clock with the outside looking like it was 6:30 in the evening. It is now 1:25 in the afternoon and nothing’s changed. Sigh.

My friend came out to me today. We were talking about her picket fence fantasy from long ago. I confessed to her that these days increasingly, I was beginning to seek comfort in that fantasy for a few minutes. When all the stress of school, and advanced genetics courses and job interviews gets too much, I’ll think about chopping carrots in the kitchen one evening, all grown up. I imagine a faceless husband who will come home and put his arms around my waist and kiss my neck. “Hello, babe”, he says. I smile back and we have a happy, quiet, relaxed dinner together. I think about this while I’m washing the dishes as a break from studying. Then I wipe my hands on my pants, go back to my desk and study Human Molecular Genetics for the rest of the evening.

So I told her this, and she said , “Oh, I don’t want a husband anymore.” “You don’t?”, I said. “Why not?”

“Oh, haven’t I told you about this summer?” She waited till we were outside, and told me she was gay. “Oh”, I said. We kept walking and talking and it was all very unmomentous and ordinary. It was like she’d just told me she wanted a coffee. Ohwell.

Music Blog

So there is a new blog that the boyfriend and I created as a lark last week. We live as far away from each other as it is humanly possible for two people to live. There are a few continents and about two oceans separating us, so we decided to share a music blog. It’s one of those things about which we have a lot to say.

Feel free to peruse and look through (and follow), if that’s your kinda thing.

hobofriendandcrazywomansinfiniteplaylist.wordpress.com

Also, Happy (Canadian) Thanksgiving, everyone. All the people I love live very far away, and the house is going to be pretty empty this weekend with everyone going home to their families. I’m going to be busy studying for a Zoology midterm coming up on Tuesday. Not the ideal thanksgiving, but it’ll do. And I’m going out to the Fox and the Fiddle with my room-mate tonight. Have been wanting to visit the bar for quite a while now, which may be due to the name. Maybe it’ll turn out to be one of those things in Waterloo that I actually like.

An epiphany I have had recently is, more urgently than ever, balance is KEY.

Random things from the internet that made me laugh out loud

So today I got done with the bane of my existence- my 6 hour weekly molecular biology lab, and a whole bunch of other important deadline oriented midterm-applications-volunteering type things. It has been a long, tiring week, and there are more like this coming up. But right now, this Thursday night I am wearing comfy grey pajamas and a hoodie and chilling so hard. I’ve been trawling the net, and maybe I’m just glad I get to sleep again, or maybe it’s the Reese’s peanut butter cups, but I keep reading things online that make me laugh. Out loud. Which isn’t something that happens all that often, come to think of it.

Also, I am reading the Vagina Monologues by Eve Ensler, and quite surprisingly liking it. I snitched a bunch of books from the Women’s Centre library (which I will obviously return), and I’m very pleased about it. I will write something coherent later- right now I’m fairly sure this reads like the composition of a fourth grader- blame it on sleep deprivation. Instead, I will post random lines that made me LOL from the interwebs.

Page 56: Hedwig bites it as the Death Eaters attack. Still, we’ll have all those great memories of Hedwig. Like the time Hedwig delivered a package. Or the other time Hedwig delivered a package.

Page 309: “MY PARENTS ARE DEAD!” Harry Potter is Batman! *oh batman. general fond indulgence*

Page 371: Oh, good, Ron is back. Everybody, wave your tiny little flag for Ron.

From Thought Catalog’s article, “Honest Facebook Photo Captions”:

“Just a friendly reminder that I’m in a relationship and you’re not.”

“I look like I’m screaming here, but really I just quietly posed with my mouth wide open in mock-shock fashion because, edgy.”

 

I participated …

I participated in the Bust Casting session at UW’s Women’s Centre today. It was strange but also strangely normal, sitting topless with ten other women I’d never met before, making plaster casts of our breasts. We’re going to paint the casts later this week. It was… liberating. I mean, they’re just…boobs. Everyone has them, no big. Okay, correction- women have them; if men have them, it’s called gynaecomastia. 

Point is, I feel like I’m growing up, ridding myself of a lot of the neuroses and hang-ups that I carry around with me. This can only be a good thing, right?